


Practical Demonstration

by JohnAmendAll



Category: Doctor Who (1963)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-03
Updated: 2016-08-03
Packaged: 2018-07-29 04:34:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7670230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JohnAmendAll/pseuds/JohnAmendAll
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Perhaps Jamie shouldn't have asked Sam why it took her so long to do the ironing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Practical Demonstration

**Author's Note:**

> From a 'Domestic pairings' meme; prompt was "Samantha Briggs / Jamie McCrimmon - ironing"

"Right," Samantha said. "Now you turn the shirt sideways and do up to the buttons. Got that?" 

"I don't see why it's got to be so complicated," Jamie muttered, obediently pushing the iron across the damp fabric. 

Samantha put her hands on her hips. "You asked why it takes so long to do the ironing. And I'm showing you. Move the shirt across and do the next bit." 

"We never bothered with ironing in Prince Charles's army." 

"Well, you're not in the army now. You're in our house." Samantha nodded at the progress on the shirt. "And if you don't do this right you'll be for it. Sleeves come next." 

"Seems like a lot of fuss about nothing to me," Jamie muttered. 

"Look," Samantha said firmly. "When you were in the army, they didn't just give you a sword and say 'stick that in someone', did they? Or a set of bagpipes and say 'play that.' They got you to practise." She looked up at him and added, less firmly, "They _did_ get you to practise, didn't they?" 

"Well, mainly with the bagpipes." Jamie's voice was thoughtful. "D'you think if we'd trained more we might have done better at Culloden?" 

"That's not my business. What I meant was, if you think it's helpful to practise for charging at people in a berserk rage, why wouldn't you practise how to iron clothes?" 

"Oh, well, that's—" Jamie broke off, the words "woman's work" left hanging in the air between them. 

Something else was hanging in the air between them, too: a worrying odour of smouldering. Samantha darted forward and snatched up the iron, just in time to stop it burning its way through the shirt. 

"You divvy," she said. "If I hadn't been here you could've set that on fire." 

"If you'd not been here I wouldnae have been distracted, would I?" 

"If you think I'm leaving you alone with a load of washing and a hot iron, you've got another think coming." Samantha set the iron down on the asbestos sheet at the end of the board, and put her arms round him. "Either you're gonna learn to do this right, or admit you're not up to a woman's job. So what's it gonna be?"


End file.
